Stones that turn up in riverbeds around Mr. Jiang's home have a rosy or caramel-colored hue, making them resemble pieces of meat.

They "look just like pieces of pork freshly plucked from a pot, some stewed, others braised or deep fried," says Mr. Jiang, who has collected hundreds over the years.

They originate on "Meat-Rock Mountain."

When storms come, the rocks are swept down to the river, where they are picked up by the many collectors here in the hills of central China.

Lushan boasts a museum dedicated to meat rocks and plans another.

A local meat-rock research committee was formed last year and now has hundreds of members.

Mr. Jiang's expertise has been called on to develop official classifications for what makes a good meat rock.

Not so fast: Lushan's bid to be the center of meat-rock culture is landing with a thud with collectors in other parts of China whose rocks also resemble meat — they say Mr. Jiang's classification system favors Lushan's rocks.

"Of course we object," says Zhang Yaowen, 59, a meat-rock collector in a north China county also vying for recognition. "If Lushan wants to spread their standard throughout the country, that's not possible."

More is at stake than bragging rights.

Lushan and other local governments hope meat rocks will draw investment and tourists.

Across China, various governments seeking both have seized on monikers ranging from "Land of Donkey-Hide Gelatin" — a traditional Chinese remedy — to "Land of Big Drums,' which a southern region known for its plus-size drums has embraced.

Development has lagged in Lushan, a mountainous region where farmers hawk mushrooms and honey roadside.

"Meat rocks are a resource we can develop to promote the economy," says Xing Chunyu, vice-chair of a local political advisory body.

Nationwide, prices for meat-rock specimens have boomed, helped in part by the country's state broadcaster, which in recent years has aired multiple segments spotlighting meat rocks.

Stones bearing the most striking resemblance to meat can sell for thousands of dollars.

"Everyone can appreciate meat rocks," says Yuan Ziming, a collector from the northeast city of Tianjin who, like many, prefers to photograph his treasures on plates with real vegetables to boost their verisimilitude. (He also has a favorite stone that resembles a potato [below].)

Lushan's guidelines, which were published by the provincial government late last year, classify meat rocks into more than a dozen subcategories.

These include definitions for what kinds of rocks look like beef, bacon, and chicken and suggest stones should appear to have fatty meat, lean meat and skin, with pores, to be considered high-quality.

Rocks are graded on a 100-point scale.

Few places may be able to match all those attributes, critics of Lushan's standards say.

Some, like Liuzhou, in the south, carve their rocks, which purists like Mr. Jiang frown on.

Size also matters in Lushan's standards.

"Some claim their rocks are pork shoulders, but they aren't even as big as a fist!" says Mr. Jiang.

China's appreciation of meat rocks is centuries old, part of a tradition among scholars and connoisseurs who seek out stones in the service of meditation or beauty, prized for their resemblance to everything from mountains to mythical creatures.

In the case of meat rocks, the stones contain varying degrees of quartz and silica; high-iron content in some brings out a reddish hue.

Riverbeds and hot springs add polish to the finishes.

The world’s most famous meat rock is a piece of jasper carved to resemble a slice of braised pork belly.

A gift to a Qing Dynasty emperor some 300 years ago, it rests on a gold stand in Taiwan's National Palace Museum and is featured on postcards and museum memorabilia.

Many Chinese meat-rock collectors say Taiwan's meat-shaped stone is inferior to local specimens.